


Don't Stop it Now

by Hammocker



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Disco, Love Confessions, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Howard and Vince like the same music. Sometimes Howard and Vince aren't followed by disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Stop it Now

**Author's Note:**

> The Mighty Boosh appears to have consumed much of my higher thought process over the past several weeks. It's been kind of a pain really, I mean, I have other fics to work on, my big Far Cry thing, my small Far Cry things, another completely unrelated fic also involving disco. Thanks, Pogo. Thank you so much for introducing me to this insanity.

“Oh, no, no way, Howard, we are not listening to that, not for the world.”

“What's the matter with it?” Howard asked, glancing down at the unmarked cassette tape he held in his hand.

“It's disco, that's the problem!” Vince declared, pointing an accusatory finger at the tape. “It's a big bloody disco mix!”

“What's wrong with disco?”

Vince threw his hands up in the air. “No one likes disco, it's dreadful!”

“Well, disco was a part of my childhood,” Howard retorted, heading for their tape deck despite Vince's objection. “It was popular for a long while in my youth and I remember liking it well enough.”

“So, you've never had any taste, brilliant.”

“Come on, Vince, at least give it a listen. And if you don't like it, I'll keep it to myself. That fair enough?”

Vince didn't like when Howard was so nice about things. It made it really hard to say no like he knew he should have.

“Fi-ine, play the stupid disco,” he conceded, plopping down on the zebra couch.

“Play that funky music, white boy,” Howard intoned, practically squawking the final syllable.

Howard could be a real ponce sometimes. A lot of the time. This was going to hurt.

He heard their tape deck open up and accept the tape before an energetic drum beat accompanied by a playful guitar riff began. A piano promptly cut into the duo before leading to a full ensemble of harmonious instrumentation and vocals. It actually wasn't too bad or, at least, not as bad as Vince had always been told. He'd expected banshees and dying cats, but it was pretty danceable really. It almost felt like the music was compelling him to dance, demanding he dance, exactly like a good tune should.

All of sudden, Vince couldn't help but bob his head.

“You like it?” Howard asked, already swaying back and forth where he stood.

“Yeah, yeah, it's like weird proto-electro, you know?” Vince said, getting to his feet once more. “I could really get into it.”

“You see, Vince? There's benefits to listening to me on occasion.”

“Shut up, I wanna listen to the record,” he said, a smile on his face despite his harsh words.

Howard had his hands in fists, pumping his arms in time as his body tilted back and forth. No one could call him the best dancer, but Vince was too pumped up himself to care. He started swaying his hips and his neck in time, complimenting Howard's more aggressive movements. Or so he would have liked to think.

They danced “together” for a while, an awkward mix of head bobbing and hips swaying and occasionally moving in unison, but never connecting and moving together properly. Until Howard invited exactly that, taking one of Vince's hands then the other and swaying until their rhythms synchronized with each other and the real dance could begin.

It started off simple, Howard took a step forward, Vince take a step back, moving with each other to the pulse of the song. Once their steps came naturally, Howard picked up the pace and Vince followed, pumping their arms back and forth, rotating as they moved across the room, only vaguely aware of their surroundings. They probably would have looked ridiculous to an onlooker. They weren't exactly doing any kind of traditional dance, even any existing dance, but that didn't matter. They could have looked like a rabid raccoon trying to dance with an epileptic tree, but that didn't matter either. Nothing mattered but dancing with Howard.

Keep it comin' love, keep it, comin' love, don't stop it now, don't stop it no, don't stop...

And he couldn't stop. He was dancing with Howard and it was like it could go on forever. Not just the dancing, but the feeling he was getting. Vince felt better than he had in years, he felt young, he felt really beautiful, he felt perfect, he felt like he was utterly in love. In love with Howard. And maybe he was. It wouldn't have surprised him. And maybe Howard felt the same. Maybe they could somehow tell each other by osmosis as they danced. Vince was smiling. Howard was smiling right back at him. The truest smile he'd ever seen in Howard. Maybe that was his way of saying “I love you too.” He wanted it to go on forever.

Then it did stop, the music came to an abrupt halt and Vince blinked, suddenly realizing that he was still in Naboo's flat and not in some ethereal discothèque. 

“What the hell do you two fink you're doing?”

Vince and Howard both turned to find Naboo standing near the flat's entrance. By the tape deck was Bollo, standing with the now fractured disco tape in his hands.

“Don't you know anything about disco?” Naboo continued 

“It's catchy as all getout,” Vince said without a thought, grinning Naboo's way, though, it was more a grin for himself.

“It's cursed!” Naboo exclaimed, taking a step forward.

“Cursed? It's just music, how're you supposed to curse it?”

“How? You can curse anyfing, you should know that by now.”

“Oh,” Vince said, his smile fading as his mind tried its best to process exactly what was being said. “Right. So, it's really bad music?” 

“Nobody really knows, you can't tell what it sounds like proper when it's playing, it just sounds awfully dancey.”

“How'd you avoid its effects then?” Vince asked.

“I'm a shaman, I can sense disco from a mile away without needing to hear it. I sent Bollo in to deal with the tape first.”

“How'd he get by then?”

“Gorillas not punished by demon. Gorilla music not very popular,” Bollo grunted, having placed the tape's fragments in a the waste bin.

“He's useful for situations like these,” Naboo added with a nod.

“What demon?” Howard cut in, eyes narrowing at Naboo.

“Discocophany,” Naboo answered, as though he was telling them that the sky was blue.

“Who the hell is he?” Vince asked.

“Discocophany created disco in his rage when he realized that everyone liked human music better than his. He made it so that no matter how bad the disco, people couldn't help but dance the nights away until they expired. How do you fink it lasted so long?”

“I dunno,” Vince said, shrugging. “I just thought everyone went insane in the 70s or something.”

“Don't play around with disco,” Naboo said, pointing a finger at them. “I don't wanna hafta clean up another mess left by you idiots.”

Without another word, Naboo paced across the room and into his section of the flat, followed by Bollo.

“Howard, did you feel it?” Vince asked as soon as the shaman's door was closed.

“Feel what?”

“When we were dancing, I was so happy. And you seemed so happy. Were you?”

“Maybe a little.”

“You were, you felt it too,” Vince accused.

“Felt what?”

“It's like- it's kinda- it's a bit like-” Vince struggled to find the word, his hands waving without a   
thought as he stuttered.

“I think it's love,” he finally concluded. “I'm pretty sure, actually. I haven't felt a thing like that since- well, since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I thought you wanted to run the first time you laid eyes on me.”

“I'm trying to come to terms with an emotion here, Howard, could you not be a prick for a moment?”

Howard hesitated, glancing away from Vince as he thought.

“Alright, maybe I did feel it,” he conceded.

“There you go. It's just like love, isn't it?”

“I don't exactly know what love feels like, Vince, it's not like I feel love often.”

“You know that feeling like when you first listen to, like, Abbey Road or Toys in the Attic or something like that?”

“Of course.”

“That's love, I know that much.”

“I- think I felt that.”

“You did! You felt it! Howard, I- I-”

Vince wrapped his arms around Howard and pressed his nose against his friend's neck. Howard smelled like sweat and cheap soap and aftershave and perfection itself. It was magnetic. Being so close to him felt exactly right.

Howard must have thought so too because he brought an arm around Vince in kind. Vince felt his other hand stroke down his back before coming to rest around his waist. It was a tender, uncertain gesture, like he was worried Vince might back off at any moment. Howard would worry about something silly like that. But Vince didn't want to be anywhere else right now. Howard could have ruffled his hair and he wouldn't have batted an eyelash. Well, maybe not ruffled, but gently stroked. He would have liked that from Howard, actually.

“I gotta find more disco,” Howard said after a while, still unmoving.

“Yeah, you should definitely get more of that.”

“You know something, Vince?”

“Maybe, I know some things.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I knew that. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this should be longer, but frankly, I don't think it deserves any more of my time.
> 
> Vince really shouldn't be this nice and sweet, not in season two anyway, but I didn't really have an idea of how to pull this off without bending his usual attitude.
> 
> The title and lyrics used in the story are both taken from KC & the Sunshine Band's _Keep it Comin' Love_. Good tune, you should check it out if that sort of thing interests you.


End file.
